


Snapshots

by bakeoff



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien is pure, Multi, Protect Adrien Agreste, Sexual harrasment and blackmailing, adrien and chat need love, also can we all just appreciate Nino, bad people doing bad shit, featuring nino lahiffe as best friend ever and group mom, i love my dj son, ladybug will kick ass, literally nino is the best thing ever, marinette shall provide love and pastries, sexualisation of underaged models
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-10-28 00:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakeoff/pseuds/bakeoff
Summary: That night, Adrien pressed his face against his pillow and sighed shakily. He was aware of the gentle press of his cotton pyjamas against his skin and the heaviness of his blanket over his body.He was aware that only a few hours ago, he had humiliated himself and exposed his body beyond the limits of his comfort.As he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, following the rhythm of Plagg's snores, he wasn't very much aware of crying.TrWr; Mentions of sexual  harassment  and exploitation.





	1. Flashes

**Author's Note:**

> A word of advice; don't proceed if sexual harassment makes you feel uneasy. Thank you for your attention.

Adrien had never realised just how lucky he was that the modeling agency he worked at was his father's own.

At age eleven, the blond boy had been brushed up, kissed on the cheek by his maman, and told very important things; if he felt like anything was going wrong, or if anything was making him uncomfortable with his photoshoots, he was to speak of it immediately. In hindsight, he remembered his mother's lips pursing thoughtfully, her elegant eyebrows drawn in a slight frown as if she wished to elaborate but didn't know how to. It was understandable why- he was only eleven when he started, after all. It would hardly be fair to have his innocence tarnished so early.

She'd then send him off to what his father had been wanting him to be part of for a while- a world of flashing lights, exotic clothing, shades of colour and make up.

Being a model was fun- it was a good way to encourage body positivity, and he had to admit his father's designs were always nice and comfortable to wear. It wasn't too hard, either- who didn't love a job where all you had to do was smile your best?

And why wouldn't Adrien smile? Papa was always happy after a shoot, and he'd maybe ruffle his hair and mutter a word of approval. Maman insisted he looked very pretty and dazzling.

He was impressed by the lights, overwhelmed by the clicks and flashes of cameras and the attention of his parents, intoxicated by the colours and brightness.

And he'd liked modelling- genuinely and truly liked it.

Looking back on it, Adrien wasn't sure when modelling had become a chore instead of a fun thing he'd been required to do now and again. Perhaps it was when Maman had disappeared and all the warmth had vanished along with her, leaving the house and his modelling career cold and emotionless- the flashes of light being chilly and blinding instead of bright and enchanting, his smiles becoming practiced and false instead of genuine.

Maybe it was when modelling had started taking up his entire schedule and he found himself with no time to spare.

But it was fine, really. Cameras and poses were much better than being left alone with his thoughts. It wasn't like he had anything else he could have spent time doing. Photoshoots gave him more time to feel busy and less to feel lonely.

Never, not once had Adrien felt uncomfortable with his photoshoots and neither did he understand how they could make him feel so in the first place.

But now he knew.

Now he knew that discomfort came in the form of his father's newly assigned photographer and his assistant for the special shoot.

Discomfort was in the superfluous touches they seemed to give him. Usually a shoot with the regular crew he worked with included a series of short but not unwarm greetings, and ones less so when he was working with a different, unfamiliar cast for special occasions and deals like this one.

But this was weirder than just the casual, "Hello."

The assistant had rubbed his cheek, patted his head and flashed him one of her smiles. Her hands lingered beyond comfort as she told him she was glad to be working with him today, and that he was handsome and had a startling body, one very good for modelling. And as the shoot progressed and he had time to dismiss her words as a strange form of innocent affection, he noted that, the photographer himself was being rather demanding in ways he wasn't accustomed with- why was Adrien angling himself like that? The camera wasn't getting a proper view of how the surfboard prop went with the summer colours he donned. Why wasn't he posing right this way, or that way? It seemed models from where he was had a very different way of posing- one that payed less attention to the good clothing and how it looked on them and more to their poses and bodies.

The pit of Adrien's stomach was heavy with a feeling of dread. It was a little hard to breathe; he found his shoulders tensing for some reason as his stress and discomfort kept piling up throughout the shoot.

But he couldn't allow himself to ruin this shoot- provided it succeeded well enough, it would help his dad's new found alliance with a large Polish modelling agency, the one this crew had come from.

Photoshoots and posing came as easy to him as breathing- he was probably just feeling queasy now, likely a side affect of vaulting off Paris' rooftops last night with Ladybug after a late night akuma. That or he was just a tiny bit nervous around these foreigners, though admittedly that seemed less likely- he was good with people, or he liked to think so.

"Adrien, could you please lean against that board for me? Yes, yes, try to lose that tension around your body, we're aiming for summer, remember? Less tense, more relaxed." The Photographer said.

Adrien obeyed, forcing his shoulders to slump and stretching his lips in a smile that appeared confident and relaxed.

"Good! Bravo!" This was followed by several snapshots.

"Ah, good. Now, are you ready to try on the other set of outfits? Your father has assigned around three more for this shoot." said the photographer, lowering his camera and signaling for the rest of his crew to stop working the lights and machines. He was much easier to see now that the lights have ceased in their relentlessness. The photographer was a tall, lanky pale man with strings of obviously dyed auburn hair.

Adrien relaxed. This was rountine. This was normal. It was beginning to take the path of all the other photoshoots he'd done before, and what little tension was left in his shoulders seeped out gradually. Yes, certainly just after effects of his paranoia after yesterday's akuma.

He nodded his agreement- the photographer smiled at his assistant, a short woman with a tight bun that would have made Nathalie envious. She'd brought in the next outfit he was to try- this wasn't one of his father's designs, but it was one he'd agreed to let Adrien model. A small sacrifice to strengthen the alliance between them and the aforementioned modelling agency. It contained a pair of sky blue shorts attached to light brown suspenders. Judging from the summery, light colour scheme, he guessed it might go with a light colored half sleeved shirt- or a darker shade to contrast with it? He couldn't see one, but it was probably under the folded underneath.

Adrien collected it in his arms (and forced himself not to notice that the assistant's hand had lingered far longer than what was necessary yet again) and began to move towards the changing rooms- the arm of the photographer stopped him short.

"Adrien," he said in a soft, patronizing voice that made Adrien's stomach flutter in discomfort.

"There's only a quarter to an hour left of this session," he said. He wasn't drawing back his hand, Adrien noticed, and he didn't know why his subconscious had latched onto that. His arm felt cold under his touch. And he wasn't drawing it back.

"I-I'll be quick," he said, hoping to disentangle himself from the man's grip as he pulled away. But he held on firmly.

"The changing rooms are far off," he insisted. "You could just begin to change here. Surely, it wouldn't be too much trouble, would it? We might even get a few good shots. Nothing screams summer more than undressing, does it?" The man winked, his grip on Adrien's arms relaxing. There was the noise of equipment being adjusted, as if his crew were getting ready for a hasty resume of the shoot.

Adrien pulled his arm off of the grip of the older male. Everyone was acting as if it were normal; but it wasn't, it wasn't and Adrien was trembling and his gut was just screaming at him that that was so wrong. His stomach contracted and his throat constricted. He felt tense, very alone in a room of expecting people who expected the impossible of him.

He'd never been asked to undress in front of a crew of photoshooters and camermen and women. He wasn't sure he liked it. It made his breath catch and his throat tigthen and it made his stomach feel heavy with terror. He itched to turn around a run away because the thought made him sick- and he almost considered doing it, but he couldn't.

The sensible part of his mind argued that his father had assigned him to these people- and there was absolutely no way his father would get him into anything that he didn't think was appropriate. This opportunity for alliance meant so much to his father- he'd been even more absent working on designs that would impress the agency and had been trying to get in their good graces for ages now. Succeeding meant the Gabriel line of fashion possibly exceeding continental borders.

Was he going to ruin it on their first shoot with the agency? It was just a summer shoot- just a summer shoot, it wasn't like he was asked to go completely nude in front of them.

And maybe it was true that his hands were trembling and he couldn't breathe right, but it was just a photoshoot, and Adrien trusted and loved his father, and surely they wouldn't actually use any exposing shots?

Surely not. After all, Adrien reminded himself firmly as he was urged to undress for the third time by his impatient photographer; it was just another photoshoot.

Later, all Adrien would remember was flashing lights and compliments that made him feel wrong and uncomfortable and... dirty. He remembered the painful beating of his heart as he'd been made to abandon all articles of clothing but for his underwear in front of a group of strangers whose eyes burned into him and tattooed the feeling of shame into his body and into his conscience with their intense stares.

His heart skipped several beats and then stopped- and splintered.

That night, Adrien pressed his face against his pillow and sighed shakily. He was aware of the gentle press of his cotton pyjamas against his skin and the heaviness of his blanket over his body.

He was aware that only a few hours ago, he had humiliated himself and exposed his body beyond the limits of his comfort.

As he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, following the rhythm of Plagg's snores, he wasn't very much aware of crying.


	2. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien is having a day out with his friends- things should be normal and there's hardly any reason to worry.... Right?
> 
> (Featuring panic attacks.)

Adrien sat straight, his hands palms gently clasping a warm beverage beverage. He had previously taken a few moments to smile to himself and marvel at the moment; never before had he bought anything from Starbucks. He had, of course, tasted Brazilian and Norwegian coffee once, and had taken a small sip of an expensive exported Arabica when he was little, but nothing as trademark as a Starbucks cappuccino. It might have been somewhat silly of him to feel some sort of tiny spark of joy whenever something like this occurred. Adrien wondered if a chilly Paris morning with your group of friends in one of the branches of an international cafè that millions knew of and enjoyed was supposed to feel this good.

  
Either way, it did. The legitimacy of his joy could bother him later. Right now he would drown himself in Alya’s chatter, in Marinette’s awkward yet sweet banter and in Nino’s company- which today, was oddly silent, but Adrien hadn’t paid it mind back then.

  
The girls seemed to be in a friendly argument about something on the Ladyblog- Alya, of course, was being carelessly loud about her declarations which seemed not to sit well with Marinette, who was trying her best to veto Alya’s points. Not many in the small Starbucks seemed to be bothered by this. In fact, lots of other people seemed to be having discussions of their own. The air was so warm with the smell of freshly baked goods (Adrien had noted with a silent smile that Marinette had scrunched up her nose in distaste of their crêpes, muttering remarks that she assumed no one could hear) and filled with friendly banter that he couldn’t help but sink into the feeling of it.

  
He would be the first to admit that being in a popular place hadn’t sat well with him at first. Of course, he had never been one for social events: smile, wave, start polite conversation. It was kind of tiring if he were honest with himself. He supposed the idea had gotten more and more unappealing to him with time, because the thought of social interaction with people he wasn’t familiar with seemed to become less of a chore and more of nightmare.

Something about the way people moved their hands when they spoke, he reasoned, dully as he suddenly noted the barista’s unending array of hand gestures. Or the way they sometimes raised their voices when the need didn’t call for it, like the two people in the farthest table discussing American politics seem to be doing, or the way they would _looked_.

  
Adrien drew in another quiet breath. His heart was beginning to pick up pace and his lungs suddenly seemed to require consecutive breaths of air.  _This was fine. This was OK, so what was happening now?_ The warm and inviting atmosphere of the café seemed to melt into a hostile one with sulprhous air in an instant. Adrien intertwined his fingers, clasped his palms together. Let them go. Repeated.

He’d agreed, they’d gone out and it was a good weekend so far. Wonderful even, he thought sullenly as his fingers clasped tighter around the plastic cup after they grew tired of clawimg at each other. He ended up unable to say no to his friends’ smiles. Ended up caving to the ultimate desire for familiar company, and he was having fun, so what was wrong now?

  
Adrien swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to follow the conversation that Alya and Marinette were having, but the decision proved to be a counterproductive.

  
Adrien felt a feeling of suffocation resurface in his chest. He drew in yet another silent, shuddering breath. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t lose his composure. Social image is number one in all scenarios.

  
He tried to let the conversation fade into an unintelligible blur and focus on his group of friends instead of the voices, smells and sensations.

  
Marinette and Alya had seemed to come to a truce and were now exchanging sips from their drinks to judge which was better. Nino was...staring right at him. The DJ had been awfully quiet, but Adrien had suspected it had something to do with him enjoying the amusing exchange between Marinette and Alya. But he clearly wasn’t, not now at least.  
Adrien felt an unfamilair rush of emotions threaten to take him over. Feelings of insecurity and panic took the lead.

He could feel his heart hammer uncomfortably against his ribcage and his body was on brink of dissolving into a series of unending tremors and-

  
Nino nodded at him quietly, ushering towards the door with his head. His eyes said, _We're going to have talk about this._  The intensity of his gaze only grew when their eyes met.

  
Adrien’s hands moved with no voluntary permission from him- trembling, he accidentally spilled over his coffee, the light coloured liquid marring the squeaky clean table top. Adrien immediately stood up, absolutely alarmed, looking for a napkin or tissues o _r anything_ , quiet but quick apologies falling past his lips.

  
_"Desolè, desolè, desolè."_

  
His hand was kind of trembling when he’d finally found a tissue and he felt like he was making it worse rather than fixing it _and why did he have to ruin that table, he would probably end up leaving stains and making work for the employees, why did he have to ruin the day when it was going so well._

  
A hand touched Adrien’s shoulder, jolting him, fueling his panicked thoughts, causing him to whip around swiftly. Wide eyed, Nino drew back his hand as if he'd been electrocuted.

Adrien’s heart rate skyrocketed. He bit down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling.  
Marinette and Alya had stopped engaging in friendly shenanigans- their eyes were both rooted on him, eyebrows scrunched in what Adrien hoped wasn’t but believed was contempt.

  
His knees felt ready to give out. He was beginning to seriously regret his decision to come out today; biting down on more of his own disappointing traits than he could handle.

  
The next few minutes could only be described as hazy. He remembered apologising in a hushed tone repeatedly even as Marinette and Alya reassured him that it was OK, that they would help, that it happened all the time and he needn’t worry about it. He vaguely remembered the gentle tug of fingers grasping his sweater’s sleeve and the chill of Parisian air and the cold seat of a bench in a nearby park. Light snow covered the pale grass and the trees were quickly shedding their leaves, preparing to embrace the season. Not many were out in this weather, so the park was fairly deserted and quiet sans the occasional rustle of leaves and the faraway bells of a child’s bicycle.

  
The breaths of cold air that the blond model had struggled to inhale were sharp and awakening. He’d let Nino drag him away from the noises and smells and voices and this was quieter, this was better, _but his chest still struggled not to collapse and he still couldn’t think right or see right or do anything right._

  
_Adrien felt pathetic._

  
Purely and utterly pathetic. He felt the incredible urge to open his mouth and let out a series of sobs. No words could possibly describe how helpless he felt- it was like a dark force of its own had attached puppeteer strings to his emotions and was sending them dancing over the edge and into a pit of roaring flames.

  
Beyond the abyss of his thoughts, a voice tried to guide him back to stability. It seemed to be tuggling furiously at his strings, sending his emotions swinging back and forth between safety and hell like an ancient clock's pendulum. 

  
_"In. Out. Breathe in."_

He let out a choked sound that resembled a sob too much for his liking. He wrapped his arms around himself, drawing his body away from the hand on his shoulder. The hand retreated.

In. Out. He breathed in the cold, harsh air. Let it go. Begged for another lungful. Released it.

_"That’s OK. Good. Try it again. You’ll be OK, Adrien."_

  
When Adrien’s vision and mind weren’t as blurred, he could make out Nino’s dark, grim figure- his lips pursed, his jaw clenched, his hands in the pocket of his thick coat, his look calculating but soft.

  
“Are you OK?” Nino asked gently, turning to face Adrien.

Adrien drew in another deep breath. His fingers intertwined with one another, and then separated. With each action he took an inhale and then released his breath, syncing the actions of his hands and his breathing. 

  
“Are you OK?” Nino asked again.

  
Adrien could only nod a little. They sat in silence as he tried to keep his breathing under control.

  
He kind of hoped that Nino’d say something and kind of hoped that he wouldn’t. His body was trembling and he could not even begin to attempt hiding it. The cold weather was the perfect excuse, after all- he wasn’t even sure if he was actually cold or unbearable anxious. Adrien tried to fully focus on breathing and not on Alya and Marinette back at the cafè, clearing up that absolute mess he’d made.

  
The silence was sickening and relieving at the same time, like the breath of fresh air when a head resurfaces from freezing water, only to plunge into the dark depths again.

  
Finally, Nino pierced through the thin veil of silence yet again.

  
“Your clothes really aren’t suitable for this kind of weather.” He said and something in Adrien wanted to laugh and cry because he’d said something so casual and the thought of _Nino_ of all people criticising his clothing choice was hysterical.

His heart slowed down a beat or two. The trembling remained, but was remarkably less obvious. His breathing seemed to get as close as possible to evening out.

  
“Nathalie said the same,” Adrien replied, horrified to realise that his voice shook a bit. The tenseness in his shoulders only seemed to increase, the recent improvement threatening to be overwhelmed by his suddenly reinforced insecurity.

  
“Um. Father doesn’t like turtle necks, so...I don’t have many. He thinks they’re stuffy or something. This was the best I had.” Adrien nervously fiddled with his gloves as he directed his attention towards a pair of birds chirping. Most had already flown to warmer places, but these two seemed willing to stretch their stay in the Parisian winter for sometime. Adrien’s subconscious concluded that as long as he didn’t look at Nino, he’d be fine. His fingers brushed against the side of his neck out of some sort of intuition. His breath caught in his throat.

  
_You have such a delicate neck- and what a strong pulse. Ha!_

  
Breathing.

  
He had to focus on breathing again.  
Nino was quiet for a while, and so was Adrien.

They fell into silence once more but it was remarkably less tense now. For a moment, they both seemed to focus on the thin sheets of snow and the naked trees and the persistent pair of chirping birds.

Adrien’s heartbeat was being soothed into a quiet rhythm. His trembling almost ceased, leaving only tiny tremors induced by the pleasant chill of winter.

  
“What’s funny,” Nino began again. “Is that you’re also wearing those weird winter boot thingies, but not an actual sweater. Dude, seriously?”

  
Adrien cracked a reluctant smile. His green eyes hesitantly abandoned the French winter wonderland in favour of glancing at Nino.

  
“Since when did you care about fashion?”

  
“Uh, never. Duh. But there’s fashion and then there’s common sense,” Nino said, eyeing Adrien’s sweater disapprovingly. It made Adrien want to smother a weak smile. Nino scarily resembled Nathalie at that instant.  
Quiet settled once more.

It was a comfortable pattern. Adrien’s composure seemed to have been thoroughly regained. The panic and fright of the moment gave way to embarrassment and genuine disappointment in his magical ability to ruin everything. It felt sort of like he’d cataclysmed their day out- make it decay from the inside out and crumbled into ashes.

  
“Ah. Listen, Nino.” Adrien began. “I’m sorry about-“

  
“Dude,” Nino interrupted sternly, which made Adrien stop his tracks and bite down on his lip to halt his regrowing discomfort.

  
“You haven’t ruined anything. Seriously, it’s fine. I know you’re not used to going out to.. y’know, fun everyday places that aren’t some sort of luxurious billionaire get-togethers on Amir Haddad’s* private cruise ship or something. But it’s seriously fine. People spill their drinks all the time, no biggie.”

  
Adrien’s discomfort didn’t dissipate in the least. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, glancing away from his best friend yet again. “Yes, but...”

  
“But nothing.” Nino insisted in a tone that suggested the matter wasn’t up for debate anymore. “Adrien, it’s OK. Really. And sorry for dragging you out here to freeze in that flimsy sweater of yours, but I felt like you needed some space.”

  
Adrien wished he could say something, but he didn’t have the slightest thing to add. It only increased his steadily long list of Reasons to Feel Like Crap(tm). He didn’t want Nino to have to deal with him in this state and do all the talking without Adrien genuinely offering a response. He just feared that a vocal response would shatter the stability he’d worked so hard to gain.

  
Seeing that Adrien wouldn’t speak now, Nino continued.

  
“I’ve actually been noticing for a while, to be honest. I mean, Alya and Mari were just so thrilled to have this get together, they were so caught up in talking and stuff. I was happy to have the girls and you back for the day, too. But you just seemed a bit.. uncomfortable.”

Nino clasped his hands together. Unclasped them. Repeated. It sort of resembled Adrien’s own nervous habbit.

  
“You know, bro, if you’d needed a day for yourself... We would have understood. Really. Your comfort is much more important than an hour or two at Starbucks.”

  
Adrien weighted the words in his head. Nino sounded so incredibly genuine that he felt himself warm up just a tad. He reflected over his unbelievable luck- having Nino as his best friend was probably the best thing that ever happened to him, tied right up there with being Chat Noir and working alongside Ladybug for the benefit of Paris.

He quietly admired the whiteness yet again, letting the words sink in and mulling them over in his head. Thinking of how and what with to respond.

  
“I think I wanted an hour or two at Starbucks with you guys, too. I.. well, I was having fun. Honestly, I was. I don’t know what happened back there.”

  
“It looked like there was something on your mind,” Nino prompted helpfully.

  
“There wasn’t.” Adrien said simply, genuinely believing the statement to be true. His brows furrowed in concern and self doubt. He was fairly certain that he hadn’t been thinking about anything before he suddenly couldn’t have control over his own thoughts and emotions. But now that he was seriously thinking about that, he was beginning to feel dubious of his own beliefs.

  
Adrien could feel Nino’s eyes on him. He felt confident enough to meet them and offer his sincerity.

  
“Perhaps it was self consciousness. Wearing thin sweaters in European winters. Tsk, tsk. Thought you’d know better, Agreste.” Nino quipped. Adrien failed to bite back a sudden, short burst of laughter that made his best friend grin.

  
“Seriously,” Nino said, unzipping his jacket ( _which somehow sparked a small flame of uncomfortable recognition in Adrien’s mind, but the cold and the snow and the wet grass and his best friend put it out as soon_ _as it came to be_ ). “why a turtle neck pullover of all things?”

  
“My neck needs to be covered too. Normal coats don’t give necks justice,” Adrien replied dramatically, the flakes of frosty snow around his demeanour melting as the familiarity began to settle in.

  
“So the rest of your body has to suffer for it? Besides, you couldn’t just wear a coat or something over that? ” Underneath Nino’s coat was yet another coat. Adrien wished he could say he was surprised.

  
“Here, fair lord. Luckily for you, your best friend is amazing and won’t let you die of hypothermia.”

  
“I can’t possibly take that,” argued Adrien weakly, feeling another surge of warmth rush through his body.

  
“I’m wearing like, two other coats and a thin ass sweater like yours underneath this, I’ll survive.” Nino said with 0% sarcasm

  
“No way.”

  
_“Ooooh, hell yes way, Agreste.”_

  
One does not argue with Nino. Whether or not you prefer, you will end up wrapped in one of his three coats because he was stubborn as hell.

  
“I’ll give it back to you,” Adrien promised, his fingers gently tracing the lining of the soft and surprisingly warm coat.

  
“Don’t rush if you’re not planning on actually wearing any reasonable winter clothes soon.” Nino said.

  
A call interrupted Adrien’s next response.

Nino answered Alya, confirmed that they were, indeed, alive, promised a quick return so they could all walk home and then proceeded to fight with Alya over who would hang up first for at least three minutes out of sheer irony. Adrien couldn’t help an honest grin once Alya had finally hung up on Nino. The silly banter and the easy nature of their group offered him a sense of overwhelming comfort.

  
“I think it’s time we headed back,” Nino said tucking his phone into the pocket of his outermost coat. Adrien stood up, casting a look at the faithful park bench which had bore the weight of all his anxiety for the past half hour or so.

  
As he and Nino began to walk side by side in silence, snow crunching underneath their feet, Nino turned to Adrien and said quietly, “If anything comes up, just text me, Alya or Mari. Whomever you feel comfortable with. OK? I know something’s bothering you. Something you probably don’t even understand- and that’s fine.” Nino’s hazel eyes were flecked with utmost honesty. His lips were pursed, his hands were clasped together tightly: his signature nervous habits. He was uncertain. “You have my number if you need anything. And you better use it.”

  
A smile sneaked its way on Adrien’s lips before he could catch it. The feeling of being so genuinely cared about made him feel like someone had wrapped him in a warm blanket and given him all the latest Ladybug merchandise and a plate of Dupain-Cheng cookies.

  
“OK.” Adrien promised quietly, and Nino smiled.

  
The birds that Adrien had been admiring before were now soaring along the skyline beside one another, ready to bid the cold of France goodbye and greet the warmth of the south.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *- Amir Haddad is my favourite French singer  
> Thank you for reading this. I felt it was important to sort of highlight Adrien's own confusion. Since he is unexperienced with this, he is still naive. He deals with the sexual harassment he's recieving currently with discomfort, dismissal and denial. I'm writing this from my own experience, so please feel free to suggest ideas. Criticism and advice are always welcome! 
> 
> As for the panic attack, if it seemed sudden then that is because panic attacks are usually that way- one moment you're fine, the next you can't breathe.
> 
> Nino definitely suspects something, but he won't press. Not yet. He did notice that Adrien didn't seem comfortable with being touched (a subconscious reaction).
> 
> Goddamn do I love Nino. 
> 
> Please let me know about your thoughts and what you wanna see in the next chapter. Thank you!
> 
> Phil.


End file.
